Problematic
by JustGoogleIt
Summary: Late one night, Dan stumbles across the blog phanfic and is captivated by the reality tag. He wonders, if these writers had access to a few more choice details about his and Phil's relationship, just how close to reality could they get? He decides to find out.


**Summary: **Late one night, Dan stumbles across the blog phanfic and is captivated by the reality tag. He wonders, if these writers had access to a few more choice details about his and Phil's relationship, just how close to reality could they get? He decides to find out.

**Word count:** 20k

**Warnings:** descriptions of minor injuries/blood, vomit, and anxiety. Characters also discuss some potentially triggering/controversial topics commonly in fanfiction (omegaverse, mpreg, self-harm, death, etc.) but nothing is explicit or graphic. Very slight references to the youtube abuse situation.

**Disclaimer: **The following is a completely and utterly fictitious account of an imaginary situation for recreational use only. Not intended as a substitute for imagining others complexly. Please idolize responsibly. Additionally, all tweets, fics, asks, and links in this fic are completely made up. Please do not go looking for them, as they do not exist.

**A/N:** This story would never have existed if not for the help of my _amazing _beta readers, Iona and Michelle, who've both gone above and beyond to help make this idea a reality! Also, special thanks to Cecily, Gina, Naomi,Val, Stephanie, and Sam, who all listened to a hell of a lot of moaning (and answered some truly ridiculous questions) about this story over the past few months. It wouldn't be the same without them. Enjoy! :)

**(also, if you want to read this story with all its screen shots and pictures and everything else, please click on the link in my description to see it on my tumblr!)**

* * *

><p>"Dan?" a voice croaked from behind his head.<p>

Startled out of his trance, Dan gasped and jumped in his seat. He turned to face his pajama-clad intruder, shutting his laptop quickly as he did so. "Phil..." he breathed out, "you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Phil removed his glasses and rubbed at his face sleepily. His duvet was wrapped loosely around his shoulders, but the way his fringe was slightly stuck to his forehead indicated he was sweating. "What're you doing?" he asked through a yawn. "It's like, four in the morning. I thought you said you'd come to bed soon."

"Still looking for another news story," Dan answered, which was half-true. Before going to bed, Phil had made him promise to find at least one more story for the internet news segment of their radio show. And Dan had every intention of doing that—really—but procrastination had a way of making absolutely _anything_ seem more enjoyable than the task he was meant to be on.

He'd just meant to check the danisnotonfire tag, like a few pieces of art that people had drawn of him (maybe reblog an inexplicable bruise or low-quality photo of something Asian to his troll blog), and then get back to the search.

But that had been two hours ago.

"Still?" Phil slumped onto the sofa and curled up against him, his unnatural warmth reminding Dan that he was ill. "I found the other three in half this time."

"Yeah, well…" Dan trailed off. "Why're you up anyway?"

"Can't sleep." Phil sighed. "I feel so rubbish." He turned his head away and coughed a few times, as if on cue.

Dan rolled his eyes. "By all means, get closer. Infect me with your plague." But despite that, he made no effort to move away. He reopened the laptop in front of them and quickly switched to another open tab. "Since you're up, you can help me pick one. So far I've got a viral video of a cat playing Jenga and then someone did a zombie-themed marriage proposal."

"Wait… are you reading a fic?" Phil asked, pointing at the tab Dan had just switched from.

"Cat or marriage proposal?" Dan repeated.

"What're you-" Phil reached for the computer, but Dan shifted it so that it was just out of his reach, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"It _is_ a fic!" Phil croaked. "Dan, we promised that we-"

"No, no you don't understand! This one is worth it! I'm doing you with a fucking gigantic-ass dildo that's supposed to be shaped like Shrek's head and-"

Phil held up a hand. "Stop," he interrupted weakly. "I'm already sick."

"-and then I say—"

Phil put his hands over his ears. "Stop!"

Dan was laughing so hard at that point that he could barely get the words out. "—'I'm gonna make you… _ogre-asm'_!"

"That's horrible, Dan." Phil looked like he was trying to keep a straight face but the corners of his mouth were turning up anyway. This only caused Dan to deteriorate into further peals of laughter. "Where'd you find that?"

"Just in my tag," Dan giggled. He scrolled back to the top of the post and skimmed over the blurb at the beginning. "Author's note says she wrote it because she lost a bet with her cousin over who could fit the most cherry tomatoes in their mouth at once."

"Sounds like something you would do," Phil muttered.

"Except I would win. I have quite a large mouth."

Phil only hummed in response as he lay his head down on Dan's shoulder.

"Apparently it was a prompt," Dan went on, lowering his voice a bit so as not to disturb the other, his eyes still fixed on the post. "She says they got it from a blog called _phanfic_." He clicked on the linked URL.

A banner featuring himself and Phil as chibi characters stretched across the top of the blog, the content of which was almost exclusively made up of anon asks and reblogged or submitted phanfictions. Neat rows of links surrounded the posts including prompts, rec lists, weekly challenges, and even something called the Phanfic Awards. It was oddly professional for a tumblr. "Whoa," Dan whispered.

Phil lifted his head up a bit and peered at the screen. "Oh wait… I've been here before."

Dan frowned. "You have?" Given that Phil was usually much less interested in what their viewers thought of their relationship than he was, Dan was a bit surprised that Phil knew about this blog.

"Yeah, a few months ago. It's like a fic library. Everything is organized."

"And you didn't think to mention it?" Dan demanded.

"Er… No?" Phil said uncertainly. "Why would I? I mean, we both know people write stories about us."

"But I didn't know there was a _fucking library_!"

Phil giggled softly, "Literally."

Shaking his head slowly, Dan continued to scan the link choices surrounding the posts. It was all so polished-looking; it was hard to believe someone would go to all that effort just for him and Phil.

"Click here," Phil said, pointing to a link on the upper left hand side marked 'fic tags'.

Dan did as instructed and the screen was filled with row after row of carefully organized tags, sorted into categories such as genre, traits, length, and themes. "Oh my god," he breathed out. "You knew about all this?"

Phil nodded and readjusted himself on the sofa. "Kinda creepy, huh?" he said softly.

Creepy was one word for it, Dan supposed, but it wasn't really the one he would use. _Overwhelming_—that was a better one. An entire subcategory was devoted to kinks, another to their relationship status. With just a few clicks of the mouse, his screen was filled with stories of them coming out, getting together, and breaking up. In one tag they _had_ children and in another they _were_ children.

"There's a whole tag just for us being spies!" Dan whispered excitedly. "And one just for hate mail—oh god." The more tags he explored, the more he started to wonder if there was anything left that his viewers _hadn't _written about. Situations he'd never even dreamed about had entire subcategories on this blog.

After a few minutes of watching his boyfriend gawk at the seemingly endless choices, Phil snuggled up a bit closer against Dan's shoulder and murmured, "Let's read one…"

Dan snorted. "Okay, just how high _is _your fever?"

Phil started giggling, which he seemed to regret as it just turned into hacking coughs. Pulling the duvet around them a bit more, Dan teased, "I thought you didn't read fics?"

"Eh… Just this once."

Dan pushed the fringe out of Phil's eyes, using the act as an excuse to touch his hand to his forehead and gauge his temperature. It was definitely warm, but not really worryingly so. He turned back to the screen. "Alright, just this once. What should we read?"

"Something cute..."

"How 'bout a dystopian future?" Dan offered.

Phil groaned. "That sounds exhausting…"

"Terminal illness?"

"Maybe…" Phil smiled a bit. "But I think it's just the flu or something."

Dan reached over and lightly hit him with one of the sofa pillows, eliciting a whimper. "If you're gonna die, do it on the floor," he said. "We paid good money for this couch." He glanced back at the computer and tried again. "Mpreg?"

"God no," Phil croaked back. "Just read me something cute."

"Gangbang? Anal fisting?" Dan offered, laughing.

Phil groaned, "Daan…"

"Fiiine," Dan sighed as he scrolled through the tags page. "We'll read a _lame_ one. We got fluff, fluff again, pure fluff, fluffy smut, fluffy illness, fluffy angst… hang on…" He stopped when he read one of the tags. "The fuck is _reality_?"

"Stay out of the existential crisis tag," Phil warned, sniffling. "Tissue?"

Dan reached one arm over to the side table, pulled several tissues out the box, and dropped them on Phil's face. "No I mean they have a tag called 'reality'... isn't that impossible? I mean, it's a phan_fiction_ blog."

Phil shrugged. Dan clicked.

Scrolling through, it didn't take long for Dan to see that the reality tag was different from most of the others he'd explored so far. It was completely devoid of zombies. There was no incest, no inexplicably American high school education systems, and no minimum wage jobs. Each story was either based on events that had actually happened, or that at least theoretically _could_ happen. Often, instagram pictures or screenshots of their tweets rested above the stories, almost as if the writers felt the need to cite their sources.

For the next hour, Dan skimmed through the fics in the tag while Phil drifted in and out of consciousness on his shoulder. Sometimes he would find himself groaning at the ridiculously out of character dialogue, other times he would have to nudge Phil awake to make him listen to some line that was _exactly_ what he would say. It was difficult to decide which he enjoyed more—the scarily accurate or the ridiculously off-base.

"Okay," Phil sighed after Dan had poked him awake a fourth time to show him someone's interpretation of them playing with Legos, "the sun's coming up now."

Dan glanced up to see that he was right. The lounge was slowly filling with the early January morning light. "Oh. Shit." Dan yawned and closed the tabs they were on. "Let's go to bed."

He got up and offered a hand to Phil, who took it and unsteadily rose next to him, swaying in his place a bit. Dan held out an arm in case his friend's legs gave out.

Phil squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed Dan's arm to steady himself. "Whoa…"

"I'm not gonna have to carry you, am I?" Dan teased.

"Hm… yes please," Phil murmured back, without opening his eyes.

Dan snorted as they both began shuffling their way to Phil's bedroom. "They'd like that, wouldn't they?"

"Who?"

"The fic writers."

Phil laughed lightly. "Yeah… we do seem to carry each other a lot more in fics…"

"I think they forget we're grown men," Dan said, rolling his eyes. "But then again they call us 'boy' half the time, so I guess it's no surprise."

He supported Phil all the way to the bedroom, letting go only once he was certain that the other was within reaching distance of the bed.

"I carried you to bed once," Phil said sleepily as he climbed in. "Remember?"

"Vegas doesn't count," Dan replied. He reached down and removed Phil's glasses, setting them on the table next to the bed. Phil really did look poorly now that Dan was paying attention. His cheeks were flushed with fever and his breathing was labored after only that short walk. "Do you need a bin by the bed?" he asked quietly.

"I think I'm okay…" Phil breathed out. "I did all my vomiting after dinner."

"Good. Got that out of the way then." Dan smiled a bit as he pulled the covers up around his friend. "Sleep well," he said as he turned to leave the room.

"Wait, Dan…?"

Dan's hand was hovering over the light switch. "What?"

"Aren't you-" Phil cut himself off by coughing, and had to try again. "Aren't you going to sleep in here?"

Dan hesitated. "You're ill…" he said uncertainly. "I mean, we always said that was one of the nicest parts about having separate beds."

"Yeah…" Phil nodded in resignation. "Okay."

"I mean, I would, but I just got over being ill and then—"

"It's okay. I'll be asleep in two minutes anyway." Phil pulled the duvet around him a bit tighter and rolled over away to face the opposite wall.

"Okay sleep well," Dan said, guiltily flicking off the light switch.

But it wasn't more than five minutes later that Phil felt the edge of the duvet lifting and someone sliding in. "Dan?" he mumbled.

Now dressed in pajamas and with breath smelling significantly mintier, Dan snuggled down into the mattress. "I'm gonna get sick now," he muttered. "I fucking hate you."

Phil smiled as he felt Dan's arm draping protectively around his waist. "I know you do."

* * *

><p>"Do you think this milk's still alright?" Phil asked, frowning into the open container he was about to pour over his bowl of cereal.<p>

It was two weeks later, and both he and Dan were stood in the kitchen, scrounging around for anything left to eat on the last morning before their Tesco order came in.

"Dunno. Smell it," Dan said with a shrug. He continued to rifle through the fridge, picking up a container of something that looked a bit like chicken, but chicken was definitely not supposed to be that color.

"Can't. My nose is all stuffy again." Phil sniffed a few times to prove his point.

"Weren't you just sick?"

"I'm twice sick. I was sick, but then I got half better-"

"You mean you gave it to me for a week," Dan interrupted bitterly. "Thanks for that."

"—and now I'm sick again," Phil finished, holding the milk out to Dan expectantly.

With a dramatic sigh, Dan put down the questionable poultry before taking the bottle and giving it a quick sniff. His face instantly screwed up in disgust at the odor. "Euugh! Phil! _Fuck no_! What did you _do_ to this?!"

Half coughing and half laughing, Phil managed to say, "I had some cereal last night and I might've accidentally left it out, sorry."

Dan peered into the carton and swirled the liquid around a bit, frowning at the chunks of solidified milk. "That's disgusting. How did it get so bad just overnight?"

"It was kind of sitting by the radiator…" Phil admitted.

"Oh my god." Almost out of habit, Dan pulled out his phone and set the milk back down on the counter so that he could take a picture. Their viewers were always clamoring about how much they loved domestic tweets anyway.

"Oh c'mon, does the internet _really _need to see that?" Phil asked as Dan snapped the photo.

"See what?" Dan opened twitter. "That you're an idiot? Yes." Dan's fingers traveled rapidly across the screen as he phrased a tweet. "Actually, you really don't have much luck when it comes to dairy products and the internet, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Phil asked. Dan posted his tweet.

[**danisnotonfire:** traumatic morning. phil left the milk out overnight and now it's full of gelatinous globs of horror! i think i just saw one wank at me (pic)]

"Remember when you smashed the yoghurt in the store and I had to hide it in the lettuces?"

Phil laughed. "Oh god, that was hilarious!"

"And then you sat in the cereal during your liveshow," Dan went on, glancing down at his replies. "Oh! And then the time when you dropped the four pints of milk in the—Shit! Hang on."

[**danisnotonfire:** WINK! i meant wink not wank jfc]

"Fucking autocorrect," Dan grumbled over Phil's laughter. "I swear, more of my tweets have typos than don't these days."

"You could always slow down you know," Phil suggested. "Try NOT typing at the speed of light."

But Dan just waved him off and turned back to his twitter feed, which was already drowning in notifications and replies, as it did whenever he posted a tweet, no matter how mundane or domestic. It was always a bit overwhelming to see the level of interest that his followers had in their daily activities.

After a few moments of quiet, Phil sighed at his bowl of dry shreddies. "Hey Dan?"

"Hm?" Dan replied without looking up.

"Well…" Phil cleared his throat. "We're out of milk now…"

"Yep."

"So… do you think you could…?"

"You're kidding, right?" Dan looked up from his phone. "You're the one who ruined it—get it yourself."

"But... I feel poorly," Phil pouted, letting out a few coughs for effect.

"Then you can wait for the Tesco order to come tomorrow," Dan said simply, looking back to his phone.

The next thing he felt was Phil's arms wrapping around him from behind, followed by Phil's chin resting on his right shoulder. "But I'm hungry _now_…" Phil whined.

"Get your own milk, you gimp." Dan grinned and finally put his phone back into his pocket. "You're a big boy now."

"Pleeeease Dan?" He started rocking them both slowly from one foot to the other, still holding on. "My throat hurts and I'm cold and I'd do it for you if you were ill."

"But I wouldn't _make you_ do it for me," Dan pointed out. He gently released himself from the embrace and turned to face Phil, who only stuck out his lower lip sadly. "Oh give it up," Dan giggled.

"Fine." Phil let out a sigh and slowly pulled the hood of his uni sweatshirt up over his head, instantly upping the helplessness factor. He widened his eyes, giving Dan a look he knew all too well would work. "I guess I'll just starve then..."

"Uuuugghhh," Dan groaned as he started for his keys and shoes. "You are seriously so pathetic."

"Then it's a good thing I have the best boyfriend ever!" Phil called after him.

"Yeah, yeah..." Dan rolled his eyes.

[**danisnotonfire:** AmazingPhil is sick again so i've been bullied into going to tesco. what are the chances they sell a better immune system?]

* * *

><p>For someone who routinely spent upwards of ten hours a day on the internet, Dan had surprisingly little to show for it, publicly speaking. Within the world of online pseudo-celebrities, there was a very fine line between appearing uninvolved and utterly self-absorbed and he'd decided long ago that he'd rather be accused of the first. Several of his other YouTube friends had confided that they would make fake accounts on sites like tumblr and twitter so that they could follow more of their own fans and therefore see more content without feeling quite so narcissistic. Dan, however, wouldn't even bother with the accounts. He was a serial lurker: always watching, never posting.<p>

And it was through this lurking that, less than twenty-four hours after the milk incident, Dan found himself once more on the phanfic library site, staring at the results of the reality tag in disbelief. Not only had the story "Gelatinous Globs of Horror"—featuring a screenshot of his tweet at the top of the post—received seventy-nine notes, but two other authors had written their own interpretations of the event, which had been submitted to the blog as well.

In story A, Dan had found the milk on the counter the next morning and then (rather angrily) gone to confront Phil about it, who'd promptly burst into tears at what a fail he was until Dan calmed him down by listing all the reasons that he truly was, AmazingPhil. Bit sappy and far-fetched, Dan thought, but he'd read worse. A solid four out of ten.

For story B, Phil actually drank the milk, and Dan had to hold his boyfriend's head over the toilet whilst he threw up all morning. It ended with kisses ('but you'll get sick too!'/'for you, it's worth it') and a Deathnote marathon on the sofa. Improper use of semicolon in paragraphs two, three, and seven, a ridiculous amount of epithets (surely referring to Phil as 'the hauntingly-pale man' was offensive?), and for the love of god, someone needed to teach the writer that commas were not the enemy. But overall, it seemed like a decent take on the standard illness trope.

Then in story C, they'd somehow managed to turn it into BDSM mid-sentence and Dan still wasn't sure how that had happened (or whether or not they were trolling), but he definitely knew that he had no desire to read it again.

When he tried to show his findings to Phil, however, he was less than amused. They were both stretched out on the sofa, in their browsing positions, attempting to get some work done. Instead they were vaguely watching The Great British Bake Off with their computers on their laps.

"But I don't understand," Phil said once Dan had finished. "What about spoilt milk is interesting enough to be like, 'hey, I think I'll write a story about that and publish it to the internet'?"

"I'm telling you, read the last one and you won't ever think milk is boring again," Dan quipped back. "That and you'll seriously want to buy a new blender." He shuddered and made a face at the recollection.

Phil stuck out his tongue. "Think I'll pass, thanks."

Dan laughed and turned his attention back to the TV just as Richard began to roll his Baklava. "Can you turn it up? I can't hear," he complained.

Phil smirked. "I thought you were editing."

"This is a very tense moment. You can't edit whilst Paul's got his tasting face on. Look at that grimace—anything could happen."

"It's a rerun."

"But _they_ don't know that," Dan pointed out, gesturing to the people on the screen, "do they?"

"Fine." Phil reached over for the remote and clicked the volume up a few notches, landing on thirty-two. "Better?"

"Eh… one more."

Phil clicked it up two more notches, to thirty-four. "Good?"

"Hmm… no. Now it's too loud—I can't focus. Go back down one."

"Such a diva..." he sighed, and clicked it back down to thirty-two.

"No, now it's too quiet again. Go back up one."

"I can't!" Phil exclaimed.

"Yes you can?" Dan frowned. "Thirty-three." He reached over to take the remote, but Phil just pulled his hand back.

"It can't be at thirty-three," Phil protested.

Dan cast him a strange look. "...Why not?"

"I just like it better when the number is even, I dunno," Phil shrugged. "Or it could be like, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five… y'know, one of those."

"…So you need the volume to be evenly divisible by two or five?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Dan squinted in his direction. "Okay, literally _why would that matter_, Phil?"

"It just makes me feel uncomfortable when it's not. I mean, well, doesn't it make _you _uncomfortable?"

"Erm… _no_?" Dan laughed. "It only makes me uncomfortable when it's not on the right volume. Weirdo."

"I can't be the only one!" Phil laughed back.

"Pretty sure it's just you."

"You said that about gleeking."

Dan had to admit he had a point there; there'd turned out to be a truly disturbing amount of people in the world who sprayed little gauziers of saliva out of their mouths when they yawned. It was amazing what people admitted to on the internet.

[AmazingPhil: Watching great british bake off is making me want 8 cakes for breakfast]

"I wonder what they'd write about it," Dan mused about five minutes later.

"What're you talking about?"

"Huh? Oh, the fic writers. Y'know, the reality tag on that library site," he explained, realizing that of course, Phil wouldn't be on his thought train. "I wonder if they'd write a fic about the TV volume thing."

"That would have to be the most boring fic in existence."

"Well they wrote about the milk, didn't they?" said Dan. "And like half of the asks on this blog are just begging for more 'domestic phan'. Look." He tilted his screen to show that he was on the fic library blog once again. Ask after ask consisted of readers gushing over the dialogue in the last two fics and begging for more of the same.

"They don't mean _actual_ domestic situations," Phil argued back. "At at least you could sort of make a plot with the milk thing, but no one wants to write about us watching The Great British Bake Off."

"Wanna bet?"

Phil scoffed, but Dan just continued to look expectantly at him. "Wait, you're serious? You actually think they'd write this?"

"Ten quid says if we give them the idea, we get a fic within the week."

Phil wrinkled up his nose. "But how would we get them to write it? Tweet it?"

"We could do that. Or…" Dan flipped his laptop around, letting Phil see the screen. "You can like, send ideas for stories to the library. Half the blog is just ideas."

"Ideas?"

"Yeah. They call them prompts. Someone sends in a prompt for a story and then another person writes it and submits it to the blog."

"I don't know… Isn't it kind of like using them?"

"They're literally _begging_ for prompts!" Dan defended. "We're just giving them an idea. Whether or not they write it is completely up to them."

Phil thought for a second. "Well… you'd do it anonymously, right?"

Dan rolled his eyes. "No, I'm a massive idiot, Phil. I'll use the danisnotonfire account and while I'm at it, I'll tell them all about that one kink we tried in Vegas where you-"

Phil shoved him. "Actually shut up!" he laughed.

"What happens in Vegas..." Dan began with a smirk.

"Does not belong on the internet!" Phil finished, sticking out his tongue. "And for the record, I told you it wouldn't fit in there."

"Yeah, well I told you it wasn't meant to be that color."

He giggled a bit at the recollection. "Alright fine. We can send in a prompt."

"Good because I already did it."

"_What?_"

Dan cleared his throat and began to read off something off the screen. "Dan and Phil argue about whether or not the TV volume can be on a number not evenly divisible by two or five, so they fuck against a wall or some shit."

"Dan!"

"Kidding! Kidding!" he laughed. "Just the first part."

Phil rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV just in time to see Nancy spread the apricot glaze on her Schichttorte. "Ten quid?" he asked.

"Ten quid," Dan confirmed.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god, Dan, you're not gonna believe what I just found!" Phil announced as he walked into the lounge, open laptop in hand.<p>

"A new mole?" Dan guessed without glancing up from his video game.

"Ha, _ha_." Phil rolled his eyes. "No. Remember when we sent the fic library that prompt about the TV volume?"

Dan set down the controller and turned to face him. "Oh my god, you're joking. Someone actually did it?!"

"_Two_ people did it!" Phil said, joining him on the sofa. "But that's not even the best part. Apparently your prompt wasn't quite specific enough…" With a knowing grin, he handed over the laptop so that Dan could see the screen.

_[**submitted link]**  
><em>

_Title: "But It's Important To Me"_

_Based on a prompt from phanfic!_

_"dan and phil argue about whether or not the tv volume can be on a number not evenly divisible by two or five"_

_A/N: I just saw this prompt and I absolutely had to do it because i could totally picture it happening!]_

Dan quickly skimmed the post as Phil giggled in the background. After about thirty seconds, Dan's expression changed from one of amusement to disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he exclaimed. "They thought it was _me _who has the freaky volume issues?!"

"Oh, it gets better!" Phil laughed. "Read the other one." He switched tabs to another fic blog.

There, Dan read the same thing. Not only was he the one complaining about the numbers rather than Phil, but this author had taken it one step further and added a note at the beginning saying that although the prompt didn't specify who it should be, 'we all know Dan's the more likely one to have OCD issues (like, hello, cabinets?)'.

"Now that's just offensive," Dan complained.

"Yeah…" Phil looked disapprovingly at the screen. "They really shouldn't be using mental illnesses as adjectives."

"Oh." Dan considered this for a second. "That too. But the cabinet thing is a _safety _issue! Do they know how many times I've smacked my head on open doors? It's a miracle I don't have brain damage, living with you."

"And why do they think we're so angsty?" Phil wondered.

"I know, right? Like, I know I said 'argue', but they made it into an actual fight! I literally _throw the remote_ at your head!" Dan laughed.

Taking the computer back from him, Phil giggled, "But it ends with a marriage proposal so… guess it evens out."

"Because that's exactly what I'd want to do after physically assaulting someone—get hitched." Dan groaned. "How many notes did this thing get?"

"Quite a few I think…" Phil scrolled back to the bottom of the post to check. "Yeah. Fifty-three."

"Wow."

"Yeah. The first one was better. There were a few lines that I think we actually said."

"But they still thought _I_ was the freak," Dan complained. "Maybe we should've been more specific."

"How?"

"I don't know, just given them more to go off of. It was like they were missing too many details."

"Well I for one am glad they don't have all the details," Phil said. "That's creepy."

"No, I don't mean _all_ the details," Dan corrected himself. "But I wonder how close they could get to writing our actual conversations if they knew just a bit more about the situation." He adjusted himself in his seat. "Like, okay, remember with the milk? If they knew that you were being all ill and pathetic, how would that have changed things? A tweet doesn't tell enough of the story, y'know what I mean?"

"I don't think I want them to have any more details," Phil said with a frown. "I kind of like keeping some things to ourselves."

"We're already keeping our relationship to ourselves…" Dan grumbled.

"Yeah, and we're doing a spectacular job of that, evidenced by the five gazillion stories people have written about us fucking each other," Phil pointed out, a bit annoyed.

"_Fiction_, Phil. Fiction," Dan reminded. "If they don't know what they're writing about is real, honestly, what does it hurt? And you have to be curious, don't you?"

"Well… alright," Phil sighed. "But nothing too incriminating. Keep it domestic."

"'Course."

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Dan and Phil found themselves spending a remarkable amount of time on the phanfic library, prompting various little situations to the writers. The more details they gave, the closer the stories began to mesh with reality.<p>

"Look at the dialogue in this one," Phil giggled, showing off a fic in which he'd burned their anniversary dinner. "That's exactly what you would say."

"I don't think I've ever called anything 'spiffing' in my life," Dan complained, wrinkling up his nose.

"You said it last night!"

"I was being ironic."

"Well maybe they were too."

Not every prompt would be written, of course, but more often than not they could at least get a drabble out of any given idea, especially if they tweeted about it too. The Phandom just kept eating up the domestic prompts. Crossovers grew to be few and far between, angst eased up a bit, and childhood AU fics were just about non-existent. The reality and domestic tags, however, just kept expanding as prompt after prompt was filled.

Phil was only mildly amused by the site, but Dan was enthralled.

"I swear, you would set up security cameras in here just to give them more details," Phil had complained once.

"If it means they finally get it through their heads that I've never called you 'Philly' in my life, then yeah, I would," Dan had quipped back.

Within a few weeks, they had three fics about Phil spilling his coke all over Dan's Macbook, two about forgetting their Oyster cards on radio show night, another two about Dan accidentally hoovering over Phil's phone charger, and no less than seven about Phil killing a particularly terrifying moth.

Soon, it seemed that they couldn't have an interaction with each other without a chorus of "We should prompt it", or "Should we tweet that?", or "I wonder what they'd say about…" Daily inconveniences had never held such literary potential.

Until someone had to go and ruin it, that was.

* * *

><p>"Wait wait… so you mean they made up a whole other universe where guys can get pregnant?"<p>

"Yeah, but only if they're omegas or betas," Dan explained as he walked around the opposite side of the bed. "Or wait, actually I don't know about betas, but there's usually no betas in the stories anyway. It's this whole social hierarchy thing." He bent down slightly to get a better grip on the bed frame. "Where are we going with this again?"

"Just where we had the dresser before." Phil grabbed a hold of his side. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Go."

"Am I an alpha or an omega then?" Phil asked as they shuffled the dresser towards the opposite corner of his room.

"Alpha," Dan grunted. They plopped the bed down with a bang. "And I'm an omega, meaning I get to keep having your fucking babies."

Giggling, Phil moved over to the dresser and stood by one end. "You do know it's fiction, right?" he teased.

"I know, but omegaverse is so fucking weird," Dan complained, preparing to move the dresser. He pointed across the room before clarifying, "That wall, right?"

"Yep." Phil picked up his end and the two moved the awkwardly shaped object. "Well, at least they're being creative I guess. Good for them, thinking outside the box."

"You can think 'outside the box' and still keep us _human_."

With a shrug, Phil said, "I think it's kind of cool."

"Just because someone thinks you're the 'alpha' for once," Dan said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey! I have _always_ been the alpha in this relationship!"

Dan snorted as they dropped the dresser down again. "Yeah, right," he said. "But seriously, that whole universe is so unrealistic."

"So?" Phil asked. They each picked up one of the side tables and moved them over to where the bed was now. "I mean, it's no worse than any of the other AUs, is it?"

"But it's fucking _everywhere_," Dan grumbled. "It's not just in the AU tags now - it's all over the place. And they keep using the domestic prompts for it."

"Oh _that's_ what the problem really is..." Phil grinned. "They're wrecking your stories."

"...No..." Dan muttered.

Phil shrugged as he stepped back from the furniture. "You know, maybe it would be better to put the bed against that wall-" He pointed to the fourth wall, "-and stick the dresser next to it over there. Then we can move the TV across from it here."

"Aw, I don't wanna move the TV. We'll have to sort out all the wires."

"But we can't see it from the bed if we leave it there."

Begrudgingly, Dan agreed, given that watching two a.m. reruns of Glee was more important to him than a bit of manual labor. Once they'd gotten the TV set up again in its new location, they realized that the lamp was blocking the view and so the bed would have to slide over a bit until they could see past. Of course once that was complete, Phil remembered that the doors on the wardrobe actually needed to be able to open, so they had to shuffle the TV again to allow for clearance. At that point, they found the stain on the carpet from when Phil had knocked over his lava lamp and remembered why the dresser had been where it was, so they had to move one of the side tables over to cover it.

"Oh... _mygod_," Dan gasped, pulling his shirt sleeve up to his forehead to wipe the sweat away from his eyes. "I am _so_ not moving this shit again!"

Breathing almost as heavily, Phil plopped down on the bed, only to be joined by Dan. Laying on their backs, the two gazed up at the ceiling, exhausted.

After a moment of catching his breath, Phil said, "You know maybe it's for the best that the writers are moving on to different types of stories."

Dan frowned. "Why?"

"Well… it's better than this," He raised his arm and gestured vaguely around the room, "isn't it? I mean if they're going to write about truly boring domestic things—like rearranging the furniture—they might as well give us tails."

"I explained already this," Dan groaned, "we don't have tails. We just knot together when we-"

"I know, I know! I remember!" Phil said quickly. "You don't have to say it again!"

"Oh _that's_ too kinky for you?" Dan smiled mischievously. "Funny, after Vegas I didn't think _anything _cou-"

"What part of 'we don't talk about Vegas' is too hard for you?!" Phil cut him off, but Dan was laughing so much that he could barely be understood. "And it wouldn't have been so bad if we had real lube."

"I was not _nearly_ drunk enough for that night," Dan complained. He rolled over onto his side so he was facing Phil on the bed. "Stupid US drinking age..."

Phil's eyes met his. "You know you liked it."

He leaned himself a bit closer in and Dan closed his eyes in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, upon catching sight of the metal contraption out of the corner of his eye, Phil stopped short and smacked a hand to his own face in frustration.

Dan opened his eyes again at the sound. "What?"

"We have to move the bed again," Phil groaned.

"No! Why?"

"We can't have it this close to the radiator. It'll be way too hot."

"No. I'm not moving anything again," Dan said firmly.

"But it's by the radiator," Phil repeated.

Dan blinked at him. "Seriously? The radiator was here the entire time!"

"Well I didn't think about it before."

The next half hour was spent shuffling the furniture around the room, each time finding a new problem with the layout. The TV couldn't be against that wall. They couldn't have the bed facing that direction. They couldn't open the door if they put the dresser over there.

Finally, after much deliberation, they came up with an arrangement that worked for both of them.

**[AmazingPhil:** Just spent an hour rearranging all the furniture in my room. My biceps are crying!]

**[danisnotonfire:** AmazingPhil IT'S ALL IN THE SAME FUCKING PLACE AS WHEN WE STARTED]

* * *

><p>Phil nervously scanned the scene in front of him, which reminded him of a either a B-grade horror film or a terrible sitcom, he wasn't sure which. At least Dan had stopped swearing. "Okay, just… Er… Okay sit right there," he decided.<p>

"There's glass all over the floor," Dan reminded him, still attempting to balance on one foot whilst the other was held in front of him, dripping blood on the tile. "I'm not putting my ass in it."

"Right. Can you, er…" Phil ran his hand through his hair as he considered their options. The kitchen suddenly seemed an awful lot bigger than usual. "Okay, you just stay right there and I'll get the broom and sweep it up enough so that we can get you out of there."

"Okay, but can we pick up the pace?" Dan whined. "I'm bleeding out over here."

Rolling his eyes at the overly dramatic language, Phil quickly located a broom in the cupboard and made his way back to the kitchen. Once he'd cleared a path to Dan and helped him hobble over to the table and sit down, he ran back to the bathroom to raid the cabinets for anything that seemed remotely helpful. Since it was the middle of the night, they'd have to make do.

He returned to find Dan examining his own bloody foot.

"How is it?" Phil wondered, setting down his makeshift hospital on the table.

"You mean besides the fact that it's dripping blood and full of glass?" Dan asked sarcastically. "Totally fine, thanks." He frowned and picked up a little bottle Phil had brought with him from the bathroom. "What are _eye drops_ supposed to help with?"

Phil grinned sheepishly. "I dunno… it looked medical." He sat down in the chair opposite Dan and draped a towel across his knees. "Let me see it," he said, gesturing for Dan to place his foot on top.

It'd only been a single drinking glass that had shattered, and yet somehow Dan had managed to get three pieces embedded in his foot, which was rather impressive, considering. After deciding it looked superficial enough that they didn't need to go to A&E, Phil started in on the glass with a pair of tweezers.

That was when the real agony began.

"_Fuck_!" Dan gasped as Phil poked at him. "Why would you- Ow!" he yelped, jerking his bloody foot out of Phil's grip, away from the offending tweezers. "Careful!"

"Dan, just hold still," Phil commanded. He took the foot back on his lap and looked it over carefully.

"It's hard to hold still whilst being mutilated," Dan quipped.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I know. I just- _ahh_!"

"Got one." Phil smiled as he dropped a piece of glass onto the table.

Dan groaned as Phil dove in again. "Ahhh…" he whined. "This is all your fault you know."

"Stop squirming. You're making it worse."

"If you'd just told me that- _ahh_!"

"Got another one!" Phil said happily.

"Should there be this much blood?!"

"You're fine. Hold still."

"I still wanna have a foot left when this is over."

"Almost done, I promise."

"Phiiil…"

"Shh."

The tweezers slipped a bit and Dan inhaled sharply. "_Phil!_"

"Oops. Okay, that was my bad," Phil admitted.

Dan let out a low moan, which only made his boyfriend giggle. "What?" Dan demanded. "Is my pain amusing to you?"

"No, I just thought… well, it's past midnight and with the way you're carrying on..." Phil laughed. "I just wonder what the neighbors are thinking."

Dan scoffed. "They didn't say anything about last night, so I think we're fi—_ahhhh_," he whined as Phil grasped at the final piece with the tweezers. "Ahhhh... Ahh… fine."

"Annnnd… there!" Phil announced as he removed the piece. "Got it!"

"Finally." Wincing, Dan gingerly prodded his foot with his finger. "Now will you please warn me next time you decide to leave shards of broken glass all over the kitchen floor?"

"Look, I'm really sorry. But it's not like I meant to drop it. It was an accident." Phil searched through the supplies on the table before finding antiseptic wipes. "I was going to clean it up right away, but I heard my phone ring in the lounge and it was our producer so I had to take it. Now hold still," he instructed.

"Ahh... _Fuck_…" Dan hissed as the antiseptic touched his cuts. "But that was three hours ago," he said through gritted teeth. "It's half one now."

"I… got a bit distracted. And then I forgot." Phil found an almost-finished bandage roll on the table and started to undo it. "I'm sorry."

"I just wanted some cereal," Dan muttered. "I didn't think I'd need minor surgery."

"Why didn't you turn the light on when you walked in the room?"

Dan shrugged. "I don't need light to make cereal."

Aside from the occasional hiss of pain, they were both quiet as Phil continued to wrap Dan's foot in what remained of the gauze bandage, attaching the ends with duct tape as that seemed to be all they owned. When he was finished, Phil let out a soft sigh. "Is it too tight?" he asked gently.

Dan wiggled his toes slightly, wincing. "Nah, I think it's okay…"

"You sure?" Phil frowned. "I don't want to cut off the circulation…"

"It's fine," Dan assured. But Phil still looked doubtful, so he added with a grin, "I promise to tell you if it starts to turn black or fall off during the night."

Phil nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "You better."

Standing up from the table, he offered Dan a hand and pulled him up so that he was balanced on his good foot.

"Thanks," Dan whispered. "And thanks for picking up the glass and cleaning it and stuff… I know you don't like blood very much."

"Well I don't mind _your_ blood so much."

Dan snorted. "Awkward."

"No, I just mean, it's different when it's you somehow," Phil clarified. The two began heading towards the bedroom, Dan leaning on him for support. He added, a bit guiltily, "And it was my fault anyway."

"Yeah, it kinda was." Dan grinned. "Lucky for you, I must like you or something because I'm willing to let this one slide."

Phil rolled his eyes, and then an idea hit him. He stopped walking and swung Dan's left arm over his shoulders.

"What's that fo—Phil!" Dan yelped as Phil put his other arm under Dan's knees and lifted him up, bridal style. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

"I'm carrying you to bed," Phil said simply. "This is the way they do it in the fics, right?"

"I can still walk!" Dan protested. "Seriously, put me down before you hurt yourself."

"No no… if you want a fic, I'm giving you a fic."

"But Phil—"

"You're always comparing us to the stories people write," Phil continued as they approached the doorway. He turned sideways so that they could both fit through together. "So I'm just trying to give you what you want."

"Okay but—"

"Just let me do this," Phil insisted.

Dan gave in. He only shook his head slowly and smiled as Phil turned sideways and managed to shuffle them both into the bedroom, only hitting his own shoulder on the door frame. "There," he said, depositing Dan onto the green and blue checked duvet. "Now you can't say I've never carried you to bed."

"Thanks," Dan giggled. "But I kinda had to pee first."

"Oh." Phil sighed as he watched Dan climb back out of the bed. "I tried."

"No one ever writes _that_ into the fics, do they?" Dan asked as he made his way back towards the hall.

Phil sat down on the edge of the bed and started pulling off his socks. "What? Peeing?"

"Yeah. Or any other bodily function really. I mean, we're not robots." He stopped in the doorway and thought for a second. "Well, alright, _sometimes_ we're robots, but then it's an AU anyway…"

"Do you really _want_ to read a fic with that in it?" Phil asked skeptically.

Dan shrugged. "Well…"

"Then maybe they don't either."

"Whatever." Dan rolled his eyes and continued out of the room, calling back, "And don't leave your socks on the floor."

"Yes mum."

[**danisnotonfire: **broken glass: 1, bare foot: 0 (pic)

**[anonymous ask to phanfic: **how come no one ever pees in fics

response:tagged/watersports dude. go wild.]

* * *

><p>But as far as Dan was concerned, things only got worse from that point on. Omegaverse, a fictionalized universe in which characters took on animal characteristics and a very specific social hierarchy, was evidently only the first in what soon became a tsunami of alternate universes flooding through the library, taking over genre after genre and tag after tag. No longer were Dan and Phil spilling their coffees on insurance forms or cleaning out the storage cupboards. Rather, they were fighting dinosaurs and parenting foster children and defeating the Daleks and vandalizing their suspiciously American high schools. Sci-fi caught hold amongst one prominent circle of writers—westerns, another.<p>

Slowly but surely, writers were beginning to work the domestic tweets and prompts into their alternate universes. Now Phil wasn't just leaving his socks on the floor in their flat—he was passing them out to house-elves between his wizzarding lessons. Dan was tripping on acid rather than up escalators. Instead of accidentally microwaving aluminium foil, Dan and Phil were foiling the Illuminati, using nothing but microwave radiation.

Writers were spinning their stories in new directions, and frankly, Dan was offended. The point of the domestic and reality tags, he repeatedly argued to Phil, was that authors had to dive _deep_. They were given the actions already, but they had to figure out the _motives_, the _reasons_, the _thoughts_, the _feelings_, the—

"You're taking this _way_ too far," Phil said as he rinsed off his dinner plate in the sink.

"I am not," Dan replied, taking the dripping plate from him and loading it into the dishwasher. "They _used to_ take it this far, and now they're slacking. We used to have _depth_. Now they're too busy 'world building'." He put air quotes around the term.

Phil flicked a stray piece of pasta from the edge of the counter into the sink. "We can still have depth in AU fics," he argued, "and they're kinda fun. Less creepy, anyway."

"I read one where we were _brothers_."

"So?"

"During the _Civil War_!" Dan exclaimed. "We're not even _American_!"

Phil shrugged as he picked out the bits of food that were stuck in the drain catcher. "They're just using their imaginations."

"But sometimes it's like, not even _us_ anymore," Dan said with a sigh. "It's just our names and appearances—a lot of the time not even our personalities." He added detergent to the machine and banged the door shut. "They might as well just write original stories."

"Rather than our stories?"

"No. Rather than trying to pass _their_ stories off as _our_ stories."

Phil exhaled hard before turning to face him. "Dan."

"What?"

"Just let it go."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Dan leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "Because they're not doing it right," he said frustratedly. "They're just using our names to make sure people read their fics."

"And that matters because…?" Phil asked, matching Dan's position against the other counter.

"Because it's cheating."

Phil gave a half-laugh. "They're not getting paid to write! Who cares if they're 'cheating' or not?"

"They don't have to cheat though!" Dan defended. "We've had loads of interesting things happen to us in the past week—any one of them could be a good story. There's no reason to make OOC AUs when there's so much canon material available."

Covering his mouth with a hand, Phil tried to stifle a laugh.

"What?" Dan demanded, the corners of his own mouth turning up in spite of himself.

"Nothing," Phil giggled. "You're just - You're talking like them now. It's funny."

Dan frowned. "OOC means out of character, and AU is—"

"I know what they mean," Phil cut him off, smiling. "It's just funny to hear you say it outloud. You're so... invested in this."

"I'm not, really."

"Sure, okay," Phil chuckled. He paused for a second and then added with a smirk, "Look, don't worry about it. Even if they don't want to write your prompts anymore, I'm sure they still think you're cool."

"Shut up!" Dan laughed out. "That's _so_ not what this is about! It's the literary potential we're missing out on!"

Phil just grinned and shook his head slowly. "Whatever you say…"

* * *

><p>To be perfectly honest, Dan didn't know <em>why<em> it upset him so much that the phandom had moved away from the more realistic prompts and towards alternate universes—he just knew that it did. Reading people's interpretations of his daily life had become something that he looked forward to, and now that the writers had moved on, he felt a strange sense of loss. It was a bit like whenever he'd finally catch up on a TV series and would have to wait for the next season to come out on Netflix; try as he might, he couldn't seem to recall what he'd done with his free time _before_ he'd started reading fics.

Phil, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. Prompting had always made him a bit uncomfortable, so if anything he was glad for an excuse to quit. It was better this way, he told Dan, because now they didn't have to concern themselves with what a few thousand young minds were imagining about them. They could just focus on their own relationship now.

And that was exactly what Phil was planning to do.

* * *

><p>Dan leaned a shoulder up against the closed door of his bedroom and knocked with the back of his hand. "Seriously Phil, what are you doing?" he called.<p>

"Almost done!" came Phil's response, muffled through the door.

"My charger's in there," Dan whined, turning around so his back was pressed against the door and he was facing the hallway. "And my laptop's dead."

"Just use mine."

Dan frowned. "Your laptop?"

"My charger."

"Oh." That made more sense. "But honestly, what are you even doing?"

"I told you," Phil said through the door. "It's a surprise."

"And you couldn't do this in your own bedroom?" Dan asked, clearly exasperated.

"You can come in in five minutes. Just be patient please."

With a groan, Dan pulled himself off the door and made his way back to the lounge. The last time Phil had kept him out of a room for a 'surprise', he'd coated their windows in spray-on fake snow, which they'd then spent the next week scrubbing back _off_ the windows.

Dan settled down on the sofa and started scrolling through tumblr on his phone, which was considerably less fun than on his computer since half the images wouldn't load.

When Phil finally did emerge from the room (eight minutes later—not five), Dan was less than amused.

"All done," Phil announced.

"Finally," Dan groaned, putting his phone in his pocket and standing up from the sofa. "Now what have you done to my room?"

"I'll show you," Phil said with a smile, crossing the room towards him. "But you have to close your eyes."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." He reached out and took Dan by the hand. "Trust me on this."

Dan sighed deeply, but the look in his boyfriend's eyes was so earnest that he couldn't help but smile a bit. He closed his eyes as Phil pulled him towards the hallway. It would've all been terribly cute if Dan hadn't smacked his knee on the edge of the coffee table on his way out of the room.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Phil apologized anxiously as Dan cursed under his breath. "Oh god… are you okay? I'm so sorry."

"Peachy," Dan said through gritted teeth.

"Here, I have a better idea." Phil moved so that he was standing behind Dan and covered his eyes with his hands from behind. "Now you walk."

"How is this any better?"

Phil giggled from behind him. "It'll all be worth it."

They managed to make it the rest of the way to the room without incident and Phil took one hand off to open the door, causing Dan to point out that it probably didn't actually matter if he walked with his eyes closed to the room because Phil had left the door shut anyway. But it was all forgotten in an instant when Phil let him see in.

"Tadaa," Phil said happily, releasing his hands.

Dan blinked and gazed around the room in awe. The shades were drawn and the lights were all off except for his fairy lights. Besides that, what had to be at least twenty little tea candles were scattered around the room, glowing warmly. His room, previously cluttered with a winter's worth of mess, was now completely tidied. There was classical music playing softly in the background and all over the bed were…

"Are those… rose petals?" Dan asked, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. There was a truly ridiculous amount of them covering the room—if he lay down and waved his limbs a bit, he could probably make some sort of rose-angel. "Oh my god," he said through stifled laughter. "Phil… wh-what the _hell_?"

Phil's smile faded at the response and his cheeks flushed red. Not meeting Dan's gaze, he started rambling, "Okay maybe I got a bit carried away with the flowers and the candles but they smelled really nice and the lady at the shop told me she'd give me a discount if I got two dozen of each and I mean, you've just seemed kinda down lately so I thought if I made up your room really nice it might make you happier and…" Phil sighed and a snort escaped from Dan as he struggled not to burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, I just - I cannot believe you did this," Dan giggled. "It's just - It's… Wow."

Phil looked down sheepishly and folded his arms over his stomach. "I know, it was dumb…"

But Dan just cut him off with a kiss. "It's perfect," he said.

"Really?" Phil asked, perking up a bit. "It's not too cheesy?"

"Oh, no, it's probably the cheesiest thing I've ever seen in my life," Dan agreed, "and I'm going to be picking those flower petals out of my stuff for days but—" He pressed his hands to Phil's chest and gently pushed him until his back was up against the wall. "It's perfect."

Phil grinned in response and connected his lips to Dan's, feeling the other melting into him. But after a second, he opened his eyes and pulled back from the kiss, frowning.

Dan scrunched up his face in confusion. "What?"

"You're not just saying that _ironically_ are you? Because I've been planning this for—"

"Phil. Shush." Dan's hands slid up to Phil's shirt collar and he grasped one end in each hand. Smirking, he started walking backwards, dragging Phil with him towards the bed. "It's perfect. I'll prove it," he whispered.

Reaching the bed, Dan hesitated as the backs of his knees touched the mattress, not sure if he was meant to shake the flowers off first or not. Thankfully, Phil took the lead, gently pushing him back onto the pile of petals on the mattress, Phil's face seeming to glow in the dim flickering light.

Phil's lips moved down Dan's neck, peppering him with kisses, whilst the other fumbled clumsily with Phil's shirt buttons. Dan could feel his belt being unbuckled and then his jeans being tugged down, all while he struggled with the shirt.

"Need some help?" Phil giggled.

"Why's this thing have so many buttons?" Dan whined.

Phil unzipped his own trousers in an attempt to help things along. "It'd be pretty drafty otherwise…"

"It wasn't an actual question."

"Oh."

The final buttons came undone and Dan slid the shirt off, balling it up and tossing it off the side of the bed with a grin. "Finally." His fingertips traced over Phil's upper body, sending shivers down his spine. "Now we're talking."

He planted his lips back onto Phil's and slipped his tongue in. Boxers were the next to go, and then Dan's tongue found a new location to work, running lightly down Phil's stiffening cock. Phil tangled his fingers in Dan's hair and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as a wave of pleasure rushed over him. But then his face instantly wrinkled up in confusion.

"Dan?"

"Mmph?"

"Do you smell that?"

"...Euh?" Dan hummed in response, too occupied to offer much else.

Phil frowned and turned his head sideways, sniffing at the air. "Smells kinda like… something's burning…"

Regrettably, Dan stopped moving and removed his mouth. He coughed to clear his throat before speaking. "Did you make toast today? I told you we needed to clean out the crumb tray fir- OH MY GOD!"

"What's wrong?"

Dan scrambled off of a very confused Phil and over to the opposite side of the bed, where he'd just seen the smoke rising from the floor below them. Apparently, when he'd thrown the shirt off the bed, he had knocked over one of the candles because it'd caught fire and was currently burning a hole through the fabric. "FUCK!" he exclaimed.

"Oh my god!" Phil yelped, jumping off the bed. "It's on fire!"

"No shit!" Dan retorted, searching the room frantically for anything he could use to put it out.

"Should I get water?!"

"Err…" Dan jerked open the top drawer of the side table in desperation. With no liquids in sight and both the kitchen and the bathroom being a flight of stairs away, he had to think fast. "Just… find something to throw on it!"

"Like what?!" Phil demanded, knocking over half the items on the dresser top in his frenzy.

"Something that can't catch fire! Like… like..."

And then it hit him—to the dismay of his thirteen-year-old self. As much as he'd complained about his 'evil' chemistry teacher when he was in secondary school after he'd gotten his third detention for sassing back at her, he couldn't help but feel grateful to Ms. Anderson now for the off-handed comment she'd made once during an experiment. Synthetic fabrics tended to burn more quickly than natural ones (which was why only Dan's lab partner had needed to see the nurse after the bunsen burner incident), but one of the most fire-resistant natural materials was...

"PHIL!" Dan shrieked. "THE LEATHER SHIRT!"

Without wasting a second, Phil yanked open the bottom drawer of the dresser and threw the shirt over. Dan caught it and shoved it down on the fire, attempting to smother it. He then continued to beat Phil's burning shirt with the leather one until the flames were extinguished and nothing was left but a plume of smoke and the charred, tattered remains of a cotton-polyester blend.

"Shit…" Phil breathed out, still watching the rising smoke.

Dan sat back on his heels. "Well that was traumatic."

"I am never using candles again," Phil said miserably, staring at the six inch round hole they'd burnt in the carpet. He looked over to Dan. "You alright? Did you burn your hands?" His gaze lowered. "...Or anything else?"

Dan looked down at himself. Oh. Right. In the panic of the fire, he'd somehow forgotten they were both still naked.

That was when they burst out laughing. The relief of not burning down their apartment combined with the ridiculousness of the situation was just too much to handle. Dan leaned his back up against the bed and drew his knees up to his chest, covering his face as his body shook with uncontrollable laughter.

"Y-You told me that shirt was a _useless purchase_!" Dan managed to spit out between giggles. "Looks like it just SAVED OUR LIVES."

"I thought it was a fashion statement!" Phil laughed out. "If I'd've known you'd bought it as a fire extinguisher I wou—" he was cut off by the sound of Dan smacking himself on the head, "What?"

"WE COULD'VE USED THE FUCKING FIRE EXTINGUISHER!" Dan exclaimed.

"We have one of those?"

"Yes!"

"Where?" Phil asked, frowning.

"It's in the kitchen! My mum made sure I had one when we moved in." He snorted, "Although that would've been hilarious—racing down the stairs, stark naked, trying to find _anything_ in the mess that is that storage cupboard."

"We should really clean that out someday," Phil agreed. "But anyway, I had a back up plan that didn't involve the leather shirt _or_ the fire extinguisher."

"Oh did you?"

"Yeah." Grinning, Phil pointed over to the side table, upon which was sitting a small blue plastic bottle. "I was gonna put that on it."

"Wait, wait… you were gonna put it out a _fire_ with _lube_?!" Dan cried out.

"It's mostly liquid!"

"Are you _insane_? Phil! It's fucking flammable!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"But we buy the water-based one?"

"Nuh uh." Dan shook his head side to side vigorously, reaching up for the bottle. "Not this time. I had a coupon for a different brand. Look." He held out the bottle so that Phil could see, pointing to a line on the label that read 'premium silicon'. "You would've lost your eyebrows."

Phil scoffed, "Well, wouldn't be the first time..."

Dan smirked. "Oh so we _are _talking about Vegas now…"

"No. Shut up."

[**danisnotonfire:** knocked over my 'ocean breeze' scented candle trying to unplug my macbook. turns out that candles are meant to be kept in the upright position fml (pic)]

[**AmazingPhil:** So danisnotonfire almost burned down the flat today. How was your Saturday? (pic)]

* * *

><p>With the Calcifer-in-the-fireplace incident a few months back, this made the second time in a year that they had tweeted about nearly burning down their flat and the phandom had definitely taken notice. Even without sending them any additional information, it wasn't long at all before fics and prompts about the fire were pouring into the phanfic blog, and Dan was excited to see their spin on things.<p>

[**anonymous ask to phanfic:** prompt: based on their recent tweets, dan and phil knock over a candle whilst having sex and make a small fire that dan then puts out with his leather shirt.

(#prompts, #omg)]

The two had made up a cover-story that Dan had a scented candle in his room which he'd accidentally knocked over while reaching for his macbook charger, but the circumstances were undeniably suspicious. During a live show, Phil had accidentally let it slip that _his_ shirt had been ruined in the fire, even though it'd happened in _Dan's_ room. Then on the radio show, they'd tried to have listeners call in with their own '#clumsydisasters' and Dan had retold the story, this time claiming that he'd thrown something on the candle rather than knocked it over.

Their recount was about as incriminating and convoluted as stories got—the fic practically wrote itself—but for some reason, the writers were going off in a different direction. Sitting together on Phil's bed a few nights later, they scrolled through the blog.

_Between A Rock And A Hard Place_

_Word count: 13,480_

_Warnings: death, suicide, drug overdose,_

_Summary: Dan accidentally knocks over a candle and starts a fire that burns down their house and kills Phil. Riddled with grief at his actions, he attempts suicide and is caught up in purgatory where he must make the decision of whether or not to move onto the afterlife to be with his lover forever or to go back to Earth to care for his two adopted children._

"That one looks interesting," Dan mused.

"I start off dead though," Phil complained, crossing his arms over his chest. "I already have no hope of a happy ending."

"You don't know that. I still might decide to stay with you."

"And leave the children?! What kind of father are you?!"

"Okay, you're right, I wouldn't do that." Dan smirked. "You're on your own up there. Or down there. Whatever."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Just move on."

[**anonymous ask to phanfic:** can we have an angsty break up fic where dan gets angry and knocks over a table, but the table had a candle on it and phil gets on fire but then dan realizes that he actually doesn't want phil to die and he does cpr and kisses phil and he wakes up and fluuuuuuuffff 333

(#prompts)]

"...What?" Phil said.

"I think they're breaking physics," Dan replied. "And biology."

"And logic," Phil added.

"That too. Moving on…"

Dan, the new apprentice to master baker Phil, accidentally starts the Great London Fire of 1666.

"Now that is one I want to read!" Phil laughed.

"The Great London Fire!" Dan exclaimed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Go big or go home."

[**anonymous ask to phanfic:** i have a prompt! ^u^ 6 yr old firebender!dan is learning to control his power and accidentally sets fire to the carpet while playing and his older brother phil (a waterbender) has to rush in to the rescue

(#prompts)]

Dan rolled his eyes. "Y'know, I'm not sure controlling elements is enough of an AU… better make us brothers too."

"Okay, like I get why they like to make you a firebender, with the name and all, but why do I always get water?" Phil asked.

"It's those eyes." Dan smirked. "You could go swimming in them."

"Shut up."

[**anonymous ask to phanfic:** Dan gets so many hate comments that he starts self-harming by burning himself and one day he's crying so much that he doesn't notice knocking over the candle and making a fire, but Phil comes in when the smoke alarm goes off and finds Dan and kisses his burns and makes him promise to never do it again.

(#prompts)]

Covering his face with his hands, Dan let out a groan. "Yeah, that's what I'd do after getting hate comments—light myself on fire."

"Actually, they made a good point," Phil said with a frown. "Why didn't the smoke alarm go off?"

"When's the last time we changed the batteries?"

"Uhm... "

"Great."

_(submitted link)_

_Chance Encounters_

_Word count: 2,398_

_Dan is being an idiot and knocks over a candle in his dorm at uni. Thankfully Phil is the charming fireman on duty._

"Rude," Dan remarked. "And you'd be the worst fireman ever."

Phil grinned. "I'd be an _amazing_ fireman."

"I'm… not even going to reply to that. Next."

[**anonymous ask to phanfic:** Prompt: They're having sex and Dan knocks over a candle

"Oh my god, someone did it!" Phil said excitedly.

"Scroll down," Dan said.

...spilling hot wax all down Phil's body, which escalates into full on wax-play. At the end, they accidentally catch something on fire but Dan pisses on it to put it out so all they're left with is a burnt hole in the carpet and memories to last a lifetime.

(#see anon, #what'd I tell you, #sometimes they pee in fics, #prompts)]

"What. The actual. Fuck," Dan said, shaking his head slowly.

Phil giggled. "That's… almost better than Vegas."

So the writers had moved on then, they'd concluded. There was no more use sending in domestic prompts and expecting realistic stories.

Well, _Phil_ had concluded that anyway, and Dan had agreed in theory. In practice, however, things were rarely so black-and-white.

* * *

><p>It was the following day and Phil had gone out to run some errands, leaving Dan home alone. Which was no problem, of course, because he had a video to edit, an upcoming collab video to brainstorm for, another two segments to plan for the radio show, an appointment with the carpet repair place to schedule, two smoke detectors batteries to change, and at least three other projects he'd been keeping on the back burner.<p>

So, naturally, he was on tumblr.

[**anonymous ask to phanfic**: why is no one writing domestic prompts anymore

response: huh? literally the last three submissions were all domestic laughs]

**[anonymous ask to phanfic**:: no i mean ACTUAL domestic. not like all this au stuff. the realistic kind.

response: hmm well i guess genres go in and out of fashion depending on what people are into at the time and what's going on in the outside world (eg the influx of dystopian stuff thanks to the hunger games etc) but there's always going to be a market for domestic stuff - just now it's domestic stuff ON MARS or whatever :)]

**[anonymous ask to phanfic**: ok i would understand if SOME of the writers put them in au settings, but it's literally ALL of them rn. doesn't /anyone/ want to write about reality?

response: i'm sure people will eventually. reality comes in and out of style just like AUs do. right now i reckon it's just a bit more fun to stick them somewhere exciting because there are only so many times you can read about phil eating dan's cereal laughs

**[anonymous ask to phanfic**: ok but phil DOES eat dan's cereal. a lot.

response: and that's why we have 80 fics about that already. honestly, don't worry about it. if the prompt is interesting enough then people will write it]

**[anonymous ask to phanfic**: and by "interesting" you mean an au then

response: no not necessarily! it's true that AUs are kind of in right now, but there are always writers taking realistic prompts.]

**[anonymous ask to phanfic**: i thought the point of this blog was that if you had a good idea for a story someone would write it.

response: okay wow. you need to remember that no one is under ANY obligation to write ANY prompt that comes into this blog. prompts are meant to be a gift to the writers to inspire their creativity, not restrict it. If you want a prompt written, you need to take some initiative and get it done]

If Phil had been home, Dan probably would've reacted differently. He probably wouldn't have sent in the prompt multiple times. He probably wouldn't have engaged the blog. He probably wouldn't have lashed out. He probably wouldn't have stormed around the flat, muttering imagined arguments with the phanfic admins and writers out loud.

And he definitely wouldn't have filled his own prompt with a hastily written 2,300 word recount of almost exactly what had happened during the fire incident—in explicit detail—and anonymously submitted it to the phanfic blog.

But Phil wasn't home. So he had.

* * *

><p>He'd just clicked submit—his cursor was still hovering over the button—when he heard the front door unlock, followed by the sound of bags rustling and his flatmate entering. Hastily, Dan exited out of the blog and closed his laptop before setting it beside him on his bed and heading down to the kitchen. A soaking wet Phil trudged up the steps to join him a few seconds later, teeth chattering.<p>

"You look a bit moist," Dan said with a smirk.

"It's pouring rain and about negative twelve billion degrees," Phil complained. He dropped the bags on the floor and moved so that he was standing in front of the radiator, rubbing up and down his arms in an attempt to warm up.

"I think the weatherman said _four_..."

"Screw the weatherman. I am the weatherman now," he announced with a grin as he unbuttoned his coat. "Oh and I attracted another weird person while I was queuing at the post office."

"Oh god, what now…" Dan groaned.

"She told me I was wearing the same cologne as her step-nephew, but that he'd been injured in a stabbing three months ago. Apparently he'd been leading one of the biggest drug cartels in London! She has to testify in court next week."

"Well that's cheery."

"Honestly, what is it about my face that just says 'please, strangers, tell me horrific personal details about your lives'?"

Dan huffed out a laugh as he started unpacking the grocery bags. "What's that make? Three times this month?"

"No," Phil said, "I'm not counting the moth collector because he just turned out to be an entomologist."

"Yeah he _said_ he was an entomologist, but I still think he was a hobo."

"That's not nice."

Dan rolled his eyes as he set boxes of cereal on the counter. "Phil, he took a handful of DEAD INSECTS out of his coat pocket with a _crazed glint _in his eyes whilst on a _train full of people_. He was fucking mental."

Phil giggled. "Maybe he's just very passionate about his job." He put the kettle on and set out two mugs. "Hey, did we ever prompt the entomologist story?"

At the mention of the blog, Dan was instantly reminded of the story he'd submitted and felt his stomach drop. "Wh-What?" he said, not meaning to stammer.

"Did we ever prompt the story about the moth guy?" Phil repeated. "I bet that would be hilarious, even if they decided to make it an AU."

"No!" Dan said, a bit more forcefully than he'd intended. Phil only looked curiously at him and Dan coughed quickly before continuing. "No, I don't think we sent it in. But actually, maybe that's for the best."

Phil frowned. "Why? I thought you loved prompting."

Inwardly, the realization of just what Dan had done was starting to set in. It was one thing to casually leave a few details of a somewhat compromising situation in an ask, but it was quite another to share the entire story, nearly word for word. He didn't quite know how Phil would react to seeing the details of their NC-17 escapades posted on the web, albeit anonymously, for anyone to see, but he suddenly felt very sure of the fact that he didn't want to find out.

Outwardly, Dan just shrugged. "I'm just kinda over it, y'know? Like it was fun for a while, but you're right—it's exhausting to constantly be concerned with what other people are imagining about us. It was better when we just worried about ourselves."

He could almost feel himself flinching as he spoke the words. Occasional white lies weren't something Dan had a problem with in most circumstances (he'd always been a good actor), but lying to Phil was another matter entirely. But then again, it wasn't _really_ lying, he reminded himself, just choosing the best truth.

"Really?" Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dan nodded. "Yeah, it was fun for a while but… y'know." He shrugged again.

Smiling back at him, Phil reached out his arms and pulled him into a hug. Caught off guard, Dan only very stiffly returned the gesture. "What's that for?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing," Phil replied, still grinning. "Just… I don't know, I'm just glad I get to keep you for myself now."

The knot in Dan's stomach only tightened as Phil released him. "Wait… I thought you didn't mind sending in the prompts?" he said nervously. "I thought we agreed and that—"

"Oh no, it was fine!" Phil quickly reassured. "I didn't mind. It was fun for a while even." He smiled again. "I'm just kinda glad that we're stopping now. It was getting… I don't know, it felt more personal the longer we did it, y'know?"

Dan could only nod his head a bit in return; he was starting to feel physically sick.

"But, it was fine," Phil concluded, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "It's not like we ever told them anything they couldn't've inferred from the tweets!" He laughed. "Anyway, I'm starving. Wanna order Chinese?"

* * *

><p>Truth be told, Dan had lost his appetite. They sat snuggled up next to each other in the lounge as they ate, watching some film that Phil had picked out, but Dan was paying so little attention to it that he could barely recall the title. Instead, his mind was swirling with his choices regarding the blog and their possible outcomes.<p>

It was possible that the library hadn't published his fic yet, in which case he could probably ask them to delete it without posting. Of course, he'd submitted the story anonymously, and he'd have to anonymously ask them not to post it as well, so they wouldn't be able to verify that he was actually the author. But hopefully he'd be able to persuade them by including enough details about the story in his plea.

Then again, he hadn't checked the blog yet, so he had no way of knowing if they'd published it already. If they had, then he was truly screwed because there would be no way of asking the library to take it down without coming off anon, and he _definitely_ wasn't about to do that—not to the shippers running that blog.

But even if they had published it, he told himself, he would probably be fine. From what he'd observed, anonymously submitted fics rarely gained over twenty notes. The chances of Phil seeing the fic would be minimal if he could just keep him off the blog, and from the response Dan was getting, it did seem that his boyfriend was really and truly done with phanfiction for the present. Maybe there was nothing to worry about after all.

"Your heart's going awfully fast," Phil commented suddenly, causing Dan to jump a bit. He'd almost forgotten that Phil was pressed right up against him, his head lying against Dan's chest.

"_Is it_?" Dan asked, surprising himself when it came out a bit more like a squeak than normal.

"Mmhmm..." Phil murmured in affirmation, slowly pulling himself away so he was sitting upright. "You okay? You seem tense."

"I'm fine." He forced a laugh. "You know I get very emotionally invested in my films, Phil!"

"Yeah, I know you do." Phil smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead. "You're such a dork."

"Hey! I just prefer to appreciate the medium of film to its fullest." (He still wasn't quite sure who the main character had been.)

"Well it's over now," Phil said, stretching his arms over his head sleepily.

Dan glanced up at the screen. Sure enough, the end credits were just starting to roll. "Oh."

"Dork." Grinning, Phil leaned in and kissed him on the lips this time, which Dan returned. Maybe worrying about the fic was stupid after all.

Dan could feel his boyfriend getting turned on as he let his hands travel down to Dan's shirt, playing at the buttons.

"No candles this time, right?" Phil teased. Dan's stomach turned at the thought, and he had to fight to push the thoughts back out of his head. It was just him and Phil now and everything would be fine.

"You seem happy..." Dan murmured between kisses.

"I am… I'm just... " Phil breathed out contentedly as his fingers traced over Dan's chest. "I'm just so glad I have you to myself now."

Dan felt his mouth watering and bile rising in his throat, his body's warning of what was about to occur. Without another word, he pushed Phil off of him, scrambling off the sofa and sprinting for the bathroom. He could hear Phil's confused voice calling after him, but he didn't stop, just barely managing shut the door behind him before dropping to his knees and vomiting into the toilet.

"Dan?" Phil called breathlessly from outside the door a few seconds later. "Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? Are you sick?"

Dan tried to say he was fine, but all that came out of his mouth was more of his dinner.

"Oh, Dan... " Phil said gently, his voice still a bit muffled by the door. "I'm coming in, alright?"

Honestly, Phil was the last person he wanted to see at the moment, but given that that would be a bit hard to explain, he didn't protest. Phil pushed open the door and stepped in, immediately sitting down cross-legged next to Dan on the floor and setting to work rubbing his back comfortingly. "God, Dan… what's wrong?" he whispered.

"M'fine..." Dan muttered, spitting into the toilet. (He'd be better if Phil was in the other room again.)

Phil continued to rub his back. "Was it the food or…?"

"I don't know…" Dan mumbled. He sat back and let Phil flush the toilet before grabbing some toilet roll to wipe his mouth. "Probably..."

"Well, when did you start feeling sick?" Phil asked, looking him over worriedly. "Oh, your heart was beating all fast before—did you feel bad then?"

"No," Dan began, but then decided to take the easy out. "Or, I guess… Yeah. Maybe a little bit…"

"Aw, you should've told me," Phil said softly. He placed a hand gently on Dan's forehead and then moved it around to feel his face. "I don't think you have a fever. Does anything hurt?"

"No." Dan shook his head. "I think it was just the Lo Mein. It tasted kinda funny. I'm okay."

Not looking very convinced, Phil helped his boyfriend to his feet and let him get cleaned up at the sink. He tried to insist that they sleep together in his room, but Dan promised he would be fine on his own and he'd hate to get Phil ill if what he had turned out to be contagious after all. Phil finally conceded, but didn't leave Dan's side until he was safely tucked into bed, a glass of water and a bin within reach.

"I'm setting your phone right here," Phil said, putting the object on the table next to the bed. "I mean, I'll probably hear you if you yell anyway, but just in case."

"Honestly, I'll be alright," Dan insisted for the fourth time.

"I know, I'm just making sure," Phil said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't take care of you?"

_One that would be making me feel far less guilty right now_, Dan thought. But he just smiled weakly and let Phil do as he pleased.

Finally, Phil moved towards the door. "Feel better, Dan," he said as he flicked off the light.

"Thanks."

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Dan sat up in bed, grabbed his phone from the table, and typed ' .com' into the searchbar as fast as his fingers could manage it. If he could just get to the blog and send them an ask before they published his submission, then maybe it would be possible to—

Never mind.

_"Playing With Fire" - submitted by anonymous_

_Playing With Fire_

_author: anonymous_

_word count: 2,319_

_summary: sexy times take a sudden turn when phil's shirt accidentally lands on a candle_

_a/n: hey look it's a realistic story for once rather than an au!_

Dan had only meant to submit the story to the library blog to make a point; he'd had no intention of anyone actually reading it, let alone enjoying it. Of course, now that he was watching in horror as his anonymous submission had begun to circle around the major phan blogs, it seemed a bit more obvious that he hadn't thought this through well enough.

Suddenly, the wastebin on his floor was looking pretty appealing again.

* * *

><p>Despite Dan's anxiety, the next two days passed fairly uneventfully. He was on edge at first, staying as far away from the blog as possible and just waiting for Phil to stumble across the fic and for all hell to break loose. He'd flinch every time Phil called him over to show him something on the internet, even though it usually turned out to be a funny video of a small rodent doing something either adorable or unbelievably irritating. After about three of these such incidents, Dan relaxed, finally accepting the idea that Phil was well and truly done with the phanfic blog.<p>

By Wednesday, Dan had concluded that it really could have been worse. Really, he'd just told a story and published it to the web under the guise of fiction. He'd done the same as millions of other writers and honestly, the only one who would ever know that the events had actually transpired was his boyfriend. As far as anyone reading was concerned, it was completely made up.

With the guilt beginning to subside, curiosity got the better of him, and Dan wanted to know what had become of his story. He waited until Phil had gone to bed for the night—half past two—before navigating over to the library blog and typing '/tagged/submission' after the URL.

_Playing With Fire_

It had 304 notes. That was a lot for a fic in general, but it was nearly unheard of for an anonymous submission. Scrolling down through the notes, he recognized the names of several more prominent phanfic writers in the reblogs, and checked some of the tags they'd reblogged it with.

_#lmao they would, #fic rec_

_#OMFG THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER, #I'M FUCKING DYING, #CHELSEA YOU HAVE TO READ THIS_

_#jfc this iS amazing, #everyone go read this now, #oh mY GOD_

_#fanfiction rec_

_#phanfiction, this made my day about 10245737x better_

_#THEY WERE GONNA PUT LUBE ON IT, NOOOO_

_#the characterization is spot on holy fuck_

_#phanfic rec, #phan, #dan, #phil, #both_

_#I'VE READ THIS 3X ALREADY AND I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AND CRINGING I'M WAKING UP MY PARENTS HELP, #FIC REC_

In spite of himself, Dan couldn't help but feel a bit pleased by the response. He'd always been good at English—maybe if he'd picked that as a degree rather than law, he wouldn't have dropped out of uni—and sharing stories was something he'd always enjoyed. It was kind of nice to think that people who didn't even know who he was on the site still liked his story.

And it was a _damn good_ story, come to think of it. It had drama, romance, suspense, action, danger, sex… and he and Phil would've never been able to share it. It would've been a bloody shame to keep it to themselves. What's the point of a story if you can't let others enjoy it?

Of course, one set of tags stood out from the rest.

_#this is really well done and hilarious, #the only thing is it seemed a bit ooc to me?, #and i seriously doubt dan would think to put it out with the leather shit lmao, #but if you're willing to suspend disbelief a bit and ignore some of the more the unrealistic details, #even though the poster wanted it tagged as reality, #then this is brilliant, #fic rec_

Frowning, Dan checked the url, only to find it'd been reblogged by _philsthirdnipple_, whom he'd recognized as one of the instigators of the 'Phan Westerns' trend. The irony of the situation was almost overwhelming.

He clicked on the URL and was taken to a blog which featured a gif of himself and Phil in the sidebar, color-coordinated with the background, and a description stating that she was a nineteen-year-old girl called 'Gracie' and that she would one day marry Phil Lester if Dan didn't beat her to it. Links in the navigation led to phanfics, phan edits, phan art, and phan theories, all neatly sorted by tags.

Clicking on the blogger's phanfics link, he was taken to a rather lengthy list of stories written about himself and Phil, and after a quick skim, he noticed a pattern. Annoyance got the better of him. He moved to her askbox.

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: hey so i'm curious, how can you say that the fic you just reblogged was ooc? you write like primarily AUs right?

response: Hello! I think there's a big difference from writing something that's set in a different universe and writing something that's not in character. What I like about Dan and Phil's story is that it can be told in so many ways. It's that universal theme of love and friendship and making a connection with someone against all odds. Dan and Phil can still be _Dan_ and _Phil _in so many different situations and that's the fun of AUs for me!

Conversely, just because a fic is set in this universe doesn't necessarily mean that it's going to be in character. If Dan is kept in this universe but is portrayed as really badass for example, I would consider that a lot more OOC than if he were made a cowboy or whatever, but kept his personality. Make sense?]

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: okay but what about 'playing with fire' was ooc? it seemed extremely in character to me!

response: First off, let me just say that the anon fic was really well done and I enjoyed it immensely! I'm certainly not trying to step on anyone's toes here. I mean, I reblogged it. I clearly liked it!

But if you're curious, I mostly just thought Phil's character was OOC. He seemed a bit understated… almost ditzy? Also I seriously doubt either of them would've had the presence of mind to put out a fire out with the leather shirt, although that was hilarious. But like I said, these are just opinions and it was a great fic overall :)]

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: lol i know for a fact that the fic was perfectly in character

response: ...How would you know that?]

"Shit."

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: i've just been a fan of phil for a really long time. long before he met dan even. i was like his original fan.

response: Well that's cool I guess, but there's no need to get all hipster about it. The amount of time you've spent in the phandom doesn't necessarily affect your ability to recognize a story as OOC or not. Some of the best writers I know in this phandom didn't even know who Dan and Phil were a year ago :)

#kayley, #simone, #i'm talking about you, #love you babes]

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: i'm not being a hipster

response: dude you're out-hipstering dan howell right now]

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: what makes you think dan howell is a hipster

response: haha you must be new here! welcome to the phandom.]

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: i literally just told you i've been here forever

response: lol ok whatever u say]

#who's this clown, #lol

Dan had to take a deep breath and count to ten in an attempt to calm himself down. It was nothing short of infuriating to be told that something that had actually occurred was 'out of character' by a person who hadn't been there. Of course, he was used to dealing with infuriating things—such as when people reposted a certain private video in his tumblr tag—and was generally pretty good at keeping his cool. He pushed the laptop away on the bed and quietly went downstairs for a glass of cereal.

Returning to his bed and refreshing the blog fifteen minutes later, Dan found that he was not the only anon chiming in on the discussion. Gracie had already published her responses to an influx of new asks—some anonymous, others not. Most were overwhelmingly supportive of her position, declaring that she was absolutely right about Phil's character in the fic. Two askers agreed with Dan's point of view, and another one called him a peasant. A few people then claimed that Gracie was the best fic writer in the phandom, which she politely denied. Finally, someone requested that the entire debate be tagged because the drama was upsetting to them.

It wasn't only the anon getting upset at that point, unfortunately. Almost without registering what he was doing, Dan found the askbox once again.

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**: ok i guess what i don't understand is why people are treating you like the ultimate authority on whether or not a fic is ooc when i know for a fact that my fic was a hell of lot more realistic than your phan western series! and i'm not saying that those fics aren't well written, but like, you're claiming that they're more realistic than this story when phil is afraid of horses for ffs! and he is a bit ditzy (pt1)

[**anonymous** **ask to philsthirdnipple**:when he's stressed, which he would clearly be in a fire. it's not unreasonable. just bc you have some idea of how a person might react to a situation in your head doesn't mean it's accurate and it's kind of ridiculous to think that you as fans can decide what is and is not in character for people you don't know personally (pt2)

[**ask to philsthirdnipple**:i'm not trying to pick a fight or anything, i just don't see how you can be so positive that my story was not in character when i know for a fact that it was exactly how phil reacted in that situation (pt3)

_[Thank you! Your question has been received.]_

Just as he clicked the ask button, Dan felt something was off. He blinked rapidly, his heart hammering in his chest, and then he realized it: the switch wasn't toggled to anonymous.

"Shit. Shit, shit shit shit fuck shit!" The words tumbled out in a harsh whisper. Frantically he pressed the back button, but it only brought him back to the phanfic page of the blog. It was too late. Pushing the laptop away from him as if it were burning, Dan sat speechlessly on the bed, just staring at the glowing screen.

But that's what you get when you play with fire.

* * *

><p>It'd been several hours since he'd sent the message by mistake, and Dan had worked himself up into a state of near panic. He paced his bedroom anxiously, shaking and swearing under his breath as he desperately tried to think of what to do. Thoughts swirled through his brain so fast he that he wouldn't be surprised if they gave him a concussion.<p>

She hadn't responded to the ask yet—neither publicly nor privately—although he'd been refreshing the blog at least once a minute for the past two hours. Her floral pink theme with images of himself and Phil in the sidebar seemed to be mocking him.

There was of course the possibility that she hadn't received the message—tumblr was notorious for eating asks. But he'd gotten the notification that his ask had been received and he could see it sitting there in his xkit outbox. No, it'd definitely sent. Plus, she hadn't posted anything since—no other asks or gifs or anything. So what could she possibly be doing?

Dan tried to put himself in her shoes, but it only caused his heart to beat faster as the images of a crazed fangirl flooded into his mind. What if she'd contacted the 'phan proof' blogs that Phil was always filing complaints about? What if she was showing the messages to her other obsessive friends? What if they were all on some sort of conference phone call, discussing how best to out him and Phil? Wait—were conference phone calls even still a thing? Like in Mean Girls? Well maybe it was a group text. Or a google hangout, he didn't know. Or maybe a tinychat. Good lord, not a tinychat. Was it hot in here or was it just him? Why couldn't he seem to get enough air? Did his ears always ring like this? He couldn't seem to remember a time before this.

"Dan? What's going on?"

Standing in the doorway to the bedroom with rumpled hair, glasses, and pajamas, Phil watched his boyfriend's anxious pacing. His expression was quickly changing from confusion at being woken up to flat out concern at the state Dan was in. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dan said quickly. His eyes darted around, looking anywhere but at Phil.

"I could hear you talking to yourself from the other room. You're gonna wake up the whole building."

"Sorry. I'll be quiet."

"You're shaking." Phil frowned. "Are you ill again? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, really," Dan choked back. "Go back to bed."

"Dan..." Phil said gently, hesitantly stepping closer, "you know you can talk to me, whatever it is."

But he _couldn't_ talk to Phil—not about this. Anything else in his life but _this_. "It's noth_ing_," Dan tried again, his voice cracking on the second word. "Really. Just... nightmare."

And that part was entirely true.

Phil bit his lower lip, carefully looking his flatmate over. Then slowly, he nodded and turned to leave. But that only caused the guilt Dan felt to increase to the point that he thought it might crush him.

"I fucked up, okay?!" Dan blurted out after him, the words just tumbling out one after the other. "I fucked up I fucked up oh god I'm sorry!"

Phil turned around immediately, looking confused. "Wh... How? What happened?"

But Dan only sped up his pacing, unable to stay still any longer. The color was drained from his face and his breathing was growing faster again, although he wasn't yet hyperventilating. He felt as though he might be sick. "I didn't mean to, I swear! I wasn't trying to. I was only trying to make a point and then I got too involved and I clicked it and I didn't mean to but—oh god I really fucked up now and I don't know what to do!"

"Wait, wait, I don't understand," Phil interjected, trying and failing to meet Dan's gaze. "What happened? What did you do?"

Dan's voice only grew higher the more upset he became, and his pacing increased in speed. "I wasn't trying to! It was an accident, I swear!"

"But what was it?" Phil repeated, clearly alarmed now.

"I wrote something and they saw it! They know it was me! I mean, I wasn't going to let them know it was me, I'm not stupid, but—Okay maybe I am stupid, but I wasn't trying to be and now I just—Oh god, it's bad. It's about as bad as it gets because she's not a normal person either, she's like, she's a shipper! And, and—"

But he was interrupted when Phil placed a hand on each of his shoulders, halting him. "Okay stop," Phil commanded. "I have literally _no idea _what you're on about. Who is _she_?"

"Gracie!"

"...Who?"

"She's a fan, Phil! A P-H-A-N phan! And she's gonna out us!"

"What are you talking about?!"

Up until this point, Dan had avoided Phil's gaze but now he looked straight at him, his eyes wild and fearful, like he couldn't quite decide whether to pass out or run away. Instinctively, Phil reached out a hand and put it on the other's shoulder, steadying him.

"Okay." Phil let out a small sigh. "Let's just sit down."

He'd meant on the bed, which was only a few feet away, but Dan wasn't really in a state to think things through clearly. He nodded in response and sunk down to the floor shakily, leaning his back up against the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest. Phil sighed softly and sat down next to him, so close that they were pressed against each other.

Neither one of them said anything for a few minutes; there was only the sound of Dan's labored, anxious breathing, occasionally broken by a choked sob sound. But he wasn't crying—not really. His mind was racing too quickly for that. It was all so pathetic, he told himself. To be needing his boyfriend to help him calm down when this was entirely his own fault. And would Phil even want to help him if he knew what this was all about?

Eventually his breaths slowed down, and Phil tapped his own left shoulder lightly. In spite of himself, Dan obliged and lay his head down on it while he continued to regain control of his breathing, grateful for the comfort.

"Reminds me of the night you dropped out of uni," Phil said quietly. "That was the first time I'd seen you cry—well, cry like _that _anyway. We were sat on the floor then too—actually, what do you have against furniture?"

He'd said it in a playful tone, hoping to distract, but Dan couldn't match it. "I don't know," Dan sniffed back, his head still against Phil's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Shakily, between stray tears and muddled apologies, the whole story came out. Dan had broken their agreement, written a full recount of an extremely intimate moment, shared it with internet, argued with a shipper on anon, admitted he'd written the story, pissed her off, and then exposed himself, totally blowing their cover. Phil sat in silence, just letting Dan carry on.

Only once he was finished did Phil speak. "So what did the blog say back?" he asked, his tone flat.

"N-Nothing!" Dan choked out. "She didn't reply and I've been checking and checking and checking for hours and she hasn't posted anything and I don't kn-know what to d-do!"

With jittery fingers, he pulled his phone out of his pocket unlocked it. It was still on her blog. He refreshed the page again. There was only the same long string of anon messages posted as before—none of his final ones. Dan groaned.

"I don't know what to do! I know she got the message but she hasn't replied or anything!" He looked up at Phil, still shaky.

"Did she go to bed or something?"

"I don't know!" Dan exclaimed. Phil's calm demeanor was beginning to freak Dan out. Surely he should be yelling by now, and the fact that he wasn't was almost more disconcerting. "Aren't you mad at me?!"

Phil let out a hard exhale and ran his hand through his hair, pushing his fringe back. "Yeah. I'm mad, Dan," he said coldly. "I'm mad that you didn't respect me enough to ask my permission. I'm mad that you shared details we'd agreed not to share with strangers. I'm mad that you tried to keep it to yourself for three days, like I just wouldn't fucking notice!"

Dan just stared at his feet, nodding slightly. Phil didn't lash out often, which made it even more powerful when it did happen.

"I'm also mad that you stressed yourself out about this to the point that I thought you were actually ill! I mean, what did you think I would do? Leave you? Do you _really_ have so little trust in me that you didn't think I could handle this?"

"I-I…" Suddenly Dan felt like a little child again, trying desperately to conceal a broken window from his parents, only to find that they were far angrier that he'd hidden something from them than that he'd destroyed something in the first place.

"But we'll deal with that later," Phil concluded, his voice returning to even, "because we have an actual problem on our hands and being mad at you is not going to fix it, is it?"

Dan bit his lip and shook his head slowly, still unable to look Phil in the eye.

"Alright, what's the URL?"

* * *

><p>Neither of them got much sleep that night. They moved to the lounge and sat side by side, each on their laptops, anxiously checking Gracie's blog for updates every few minutes between desperately trying to work out a plan. She had definitely gone to bed for the night—Phil had been the one to notice her message in the tags of her last posted ask—but they couldn't be sure of when she would be up again to see the message, so they had to think fast.<p>

"Okay okay, maybe we can wait until she comes out with the news and then claim the ask must have been photoshopped if anyone asks," Dan suggested nervously.

Phil looked up at him. "What, just make her out to be crazy?"

"Have you scrolled through her phan tags? Or her 'answered' tag?" Dan asked, wrinkling up his nose. "She gets into drama all the fucking time. I don't think it'd be that hard to convince people she's off her rocker."

"So you're just going to make this out like she's to blame?" Phil demanded. "When this is entirely _your own_ fault?"

"Okay, okay, you're right," Dan said. "Stupid idea."

"Immoral idea," Phil quipped back.

"Okay, fine. Umm…" He thought hard. "Maybe we can just say it was a prank? That I was just trolling by pretending I'd sent the fic in and I didn't mean anything by it?"

"We can't keep using the prank excuse," Phil replied, rolling his eyes. "We don't prank people enough for that."

"Well I'm running out of ideas here!"

"I know, I know…" Phil let out an exasperated sigh, running his hand through his hair. "It's like—it's so hard because on one hand, if we address it, we're just drawing more attention to it and confirming that it was definitely real. But on the other hand, this might be our only chance to stop her from publishing it."

"You really think we can do that?" Dan scoffed. "Just ask her not to publish them?"

"It's worth a shot, right?"

Dan shook his head. "I've read through some of her 'phan theory' posts. She's not gonna just keep this to herself when we're practically confirming everything she's believed since 2009."

"But if we specifically asked her not to say anything, then maybe—"

"You can't argue with a shipper, Phil," Dan cut him off, frustrated. "They have no souls."

"Dan…"

"No I'm serious." His voice grew higher as he became more upset again. "I mean, they stalk our private facebooks for more pictures, they analyze every time we make eye contact, they pick apart and twist our every fucking word—do you honestly think she's going to be able to keep this to herself? I mean what could possibly be more exciting to a shipper—a P-H-A-N fan—than this?"

But Phil didn't know.

* * *

><p>The two must've fallen asleep at some point, because when Dan opened his eyes, he was surprised and disoriented to find himself in the lounge, daylight streaming in from the window. Phil was still passed out on the other side of the sofa, snoring lightly, which was even more confusing. Why hadn't they gone to bed?<p>

Dan groaned quietly as he fumbled around for his phone to check the time: 10:41 am.

"_Shit!_" Dan swore under his breath. Memories of the past night suddenly came flooding back and his first thought was the blog. He sat up quickly, grabbed his macbook from beside him, and opened tumblr.

(pic of messages in the inbox)

His breath caught in his throat and his cursor hovered over the icon. But he couldn't make himself press it. At least not alone.

"Phil?" Dan asked timidly, tapping the sleeping man's leg. When that didn't work, he took to shaking him. "Phil," he repeated. "Wake up."

"Mm…" Phil groaned, rolling over.

"Phil."

"What…"

"I think she replied."

Phil sat up quickly and found his glasses on the floor. Putting them on, he scooted over on the sofa until he was able to see the screen. Still, Dan hesitated.

"Okay… what are we waiting for?" Phil asked.

"I don't want to open it," Dan mumbled. "I don't know what she'll say."

"Well it's already there," Phil said sensibly. "I mean, whatever it's going to be, it's already been written. Waiting to find out is not going to change anything."

"So you're telling me you opened your GCSE results the moment they arrived without panicking first?" Dan retorted.

"Well… no," Phil admitted. He let out a short laugh. "Schrödinger's inbox."

"No, Schrödinger's _us_," Dan corrected. "We're both dead and alive until we open that box."

"Yeah."

They stared at the screen for a moment, neither one of them speaking.

"Well, we had a good run anyway." Finally, taking a deep inhale, Dan clicked on the icon.

* * *

><p>philsthirdnipple answered you:<p>

_Hi Gracie,_

_I imagine that you're pretty confused right now about messages you received. All I can say is that it's a very long story. I never meant to send that to you and I'm extremely sorry, but I have to ask that you please respect our privacy and do NOT publish the asks or share them with anyone. If you're willing to do that, me and Phil would be willing to have a private skype call with you or something as a way to say thanks!_

_Thanks for understanding,_

_Dan (and Phil)_

Hey Dan (and probably Phil),

I got your messages - all of them. I'll admit, I squealed (loud enough to wake up my cat and he wasn't happy about that lol). But I'm not going to share them with anyone because I do understand the importance of personal privacy.

But - and okay I don't mean to be rude here - but I'm a bit offended? Like, in your message, you offered me a private skype call with you guys if I could refrain from publishing them, like you think I need a 'reward' to be a decent human being. Um… that's kind of problematic. I'm not outing you as a couple because I have respect for you as people, not because I need some kind of 'reward'.

Look, I've been a fan of you guys for a long-ass time. Years. Maybe if you would have asked me this back when I was thirteen and convinced I would marry one of you someday I would have responded differently. Your offer of skype calls or whatever else would've been far more tempting because I wouldn't have been able able to see how problematic that was back then. But I can now.

The idea that any interaction with a 'famous' youtuber is supposed to be treated as an honor… that's exactly what's wrong with this community. It's a power imbalance. You talk about how much you hate being treated like a celebrity in your live shows, but you promise to stalk our blogs if we reblog your videos, as if that's something so rare and special that we should all want it. And a lot of us do want it. And then we're made fun of for buying into this celebrity culture!

I'm not saying that you've thought this through fully and you're purposely trying to manipulate us - I would've left this fandom a long time ago if I believed that. But while I have your captive attention here, I am saying that you need to be careful with how you use your power.

Anyway, all this to say that I'm not going to publish your asks. I would love to skype with you sometime, but that's not the make or break point of this deal. Please don't patronize your viewers.

A proud, respectful fangirl (yes we exist :p),

Gracie

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello there!**

You may have noticed that this fic comes to a bit of a screeching halt. Or, as my sister described it, "it's kinda like those freeze frame thingies in the movie 'Inception' when the world stops and you just get to stare at it from outside". Whether or not that's a helpful description, I have no idea.

Originally, I wanted to write this story for two main reasons:

1) I thought the concept of Dan and Phil anonymously interacting with their own phandom was pretty damn hilarious

2) I wanted to illustrate a much more subtle form of manipulation than has been previously called out in this community—and I wanted them called out by a fan.

So how does the story end then? What happens to Dan and Phil?

It ends one of the following ways. You can choose for yourself what you'd like to believe—stories belong to their readers and all that crap:

Dan and Phil are confused at first, and even a bit resistant to the idea that they've done anything wrong. But after some time, they take Gracie's words to heart, reevaluate their actions, and endeavor to be more careful about their influence on others in the future.

OR

A freak stampede of mariachi-playing, Stetson-wearing, piñata-smashing buffalo wreck havoc through the streets of central London. There are no survivors.

Be sure to let me know which ending you like best in the reviews!

Best wishes,

-Bethany


End file.
